


Sleeping In

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Brighid isn't much of a morning person.





	Sleeping In

**Author's Note:**

> super short pointless fluff because

Morning light reaches over the horizon bit by bit, pulling a new day forth in a progression of softened oranges and blues. As she does every time without fail, Mòrag awakens at that precise moment, her internal clock always faithful no matter how little sleep she’d gotten the night before. She takes a deep breath and begins to move, but an arm across her chest has her pinned. 

It would probably be some time before Brighid awakens. Carefully, as to avoid disturbing her, she slides out from beneath that arm and the (slightly singed) blanket that had become tangled between them. They’ll have to buy another replacement for Corinne. Or maybe they should just start bringing their own from Hardhaigh.

Brighid exhales as she gradually comes to, bothered by the lack of a warm body against her. Mòrag freezes just as she’s about to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. 

She cautiously waves a hand in front of Brighid’s face. There’s no outward response, but Mòrag knows better. 

“…There’s no point in pretending to be asleep, Brighid.” 

Her brows twitch inwards, the only indication that she is, in fact, awake. “… Must you get up so _early?_ ” 

“Certainly.” 

To that, Brighid only grumbles and turns over, her hair splayed across the sheets. The glow of her flames isn’t quite as bright in the mornings when she’s half-awake and reluctant to get up. Mòrag stands, the rough hardwood floor cold against the soles of her feet and the aches in her muscles only slightly dampened by rest. Another day means more traveling and more battles to renew those aches— she looks over at Brighid, suddenly tempted to crawl back onto the bed and curl around her. 

As if sensing her thoughts, Brighid turns back over and extends an arm in invitation. Oh, so she’s still awake. “Healthy habits include getting enough sleep, Lady Mòrag. You’ll get shadows beneath your eyes.” 

“I’ll be fine. Sleep in, if you want.” 

“Mmmh…” She frowns and lets her arm drop. “You know I don’t like sleeping alone.” 

Mòrag faces the window to conceal her pleased smile from Brighid. The sun has yet to rise; the sky is pale, painting Fonsett in a dim blue light, reminiscent of the dull illuminations within the cloudways. A few villagers are already out and about. Mòrag lifts a hand to open the window, and Brighid makes a noise in protest when she sees what she’s about to do. 

But, she still remains in the bed.

“Don’t. It’s cold outside.”

“You don’t get cold, Brighid.”

“But _you_ do.” Again, Brighid wordlessly invites Mòrag to join her in bed, patting the empty space beside her. “No one will mind if we’re late to breakfast.” 

“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll have to decline.” 

She pouts. Mòrag can feel her iron willpower slowly crumbling, and she catches herself before she bows her head in acquiescence. 

“I sometimes forget how stubborn you can be, Lady Mòrag.”

“ _Stubborn._ ” Mòrag repeats incredulously. 

“Learn to indulge yourself now and then. We aren’t at Alba Cavanich.” 

Brighid stretches out and scoots over when Mòrag finally walks back over, placing just one knee on the bed as if she’s unsure. It’s such a simple, non-consequential thing, but disrupting her typical schedule doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe Brighid’s right. Maybe she does need to relax, even if it’s just for this morning when there’s nothing particularly urgent planned for the day.

When she turns her head to the window, a ray of sunlight immediately hits her in the eye. She grimaces, then Brighid’s already tugging at her arms (taking advantage of that second of distraction), pulling her down beside her. 

“Just a few more minutes, please,” she says, punctuated by a yawn, and Mòrag softly laughs and rests her head on Brighid’s shoulder. Her fingers trace up her chest and settle to her Core Crystal; she lets the warmth spread beneath her skin, and closes her eyes in contentment.

“If you’d like, Brighid.”


End file.
